


A Piece of Cake

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-10-07 01:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10349400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: General Hammond called it a simple supply run. Right.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

A Piece of Cake

##  A Piece of Cake

##### Written by Meercat   
Comments? Write to us at [padawan88@yahoo.com](mailto:padawan88@yahoo.com)

  * General Hammond called it a simple supply run. Right. 
  * WARNING: Bad things be-a-happenin' here. Teeeerrrible things. And most of them to Daniel. 
  * PG-13 [A] [Hc] [V] [D] 



* * *

He shouldn't have said the words, not in his head and certainly not with his mouth. After all this time, he really should have known better. He was team leader for krizzakes. Who should know better than him?

"Don't worry," he'd said as he trotted merrily up the ramp toward the glowing Stargate. "It'll be a piece of cake."

*Famous last words if ever there were,* he thought. 

"This will be nothing more than a brief re-supply run," General Hammond had said during that morning's briefing. "The research station on P39-981 set up to monitor the gravitational effects of five moons on the planet's indigenous wildlife have requested various items of food and equipment."

"Ran out of canned beans and sodas, did they, sir?" O'Neill quipped.

"Normally the Quartermasters of SG-17 do the honors, but a glitch in the new scheduling software-"

"Read: snafu." At Teal's puzzled look, Jack translated, "It stands for 'situation normal, all fu-'"

"Colonel-"

Hammond gave his best team leader a stern glare that said Shut-The-Hell-Up. O'Neill took the hint and whispered to the Jaffa, "I'll tell you later."

Daniel Jackson, SG-1's resident linguist and archeologist, hid a snicker behind his hand. Major Samantha Carter sucked in her lips to keep from grinning.

Hammond sighed, fought down his own urge to smile, and continued, "A glitch in the new computer software scheduled three simultaneous shipments in one day. And since SG-1 is the only SG unit not currently on the mission board, you get the dubious honor of transporting one of the loads. For this mission, you'll only need two people. Colonel, you and Teal'c-"

"Sir," Daniel Jackson lifted a finger into the air like a kid in high school raising his hand to gain the teacher's attention. "If I may . . . I've been keeping up with some of the reports from the station, particularly the parts about the remnants of pre-civilization inhabitants on the ridges above the valley where they've set up the station. I know there's not likely to be anything of military or strategic importance about these ruins-"

Hammond smiled like an indulgent father and nodded, "Permission granted, Dr. Jackson. You can explore to your heart's content, so long as SG-1 is back here within 48 hours for briefing on your next mission."

Daniel favored the senior officer with an exuberant grin. "Thank you, General."

"Oh joy." Jack clapped his hands together in false excitement. "More rocks for your collection."

"Artifacts, Jack."

"Rocks, Daniel."

"Would you mind taking this conversation to the hallway outside?" Hammond said.

~<()>~

Jack breathed deep, pummeled his chest a-la-gorilla and said, "Ahhhh, trees. What a surprise."

Daniel smothered a teasing grin but couldn't disguise the humorous twinkle in his eyes. "Yeah, isn't it. Who'd've thought, huh?"

Teal'c, staff weapon in hand, studied their back trail until he was certain their arrival had attracted no unwelcome attention. O'Neill took point, leaving Jackson in the center to guide the F.R.E.D., the research teams' supplies firmly strapped to its rear bed.

The three men traveled the rudiments of a solid path, earth and vegetation trampled flat by the human soldiers and researchers' comings and goings through the Stargate.

After a half-hour of walking, Daniel asked, "How far are we from the research station?"

"About an hour's walk thataway." Jack waved in a vaguely northwesterly direction.

A sound, ominously familiar, echoed against the pile of rocks to their right. The men of SG-1 froze in place, weapons up and ready. Daniel halted the remote sled before it could run into O'Neill from behind.

"Was that--" Daniel started.

Jack finished, "--zat blasts?"

"It would seem so," Teal'c finished. "I believe it came from there." The former First Prime of Apophis pointed to a ridge of land ahead and to their left.

"Turn that thing off," O'Neill said, jabbing his elbow toward the F.R.E.D. "Teal'c, you stay back here--guard the supplies and watch our backsides. Daniel, you're with me."

Daniel deactivated the supply sled and hurried after the Colonel. The linguist/archeologist did his best to imitate the former Black Ops officer's stealthy approach, including a short, silent belly-crawl to the top of the hill that overlooked the battle area.

The shooting had stopped. Jack searched on each side for the source but saw only eleven Jaffa surrounding an unfamiliar Goa'uld clad in golden armor. Whoever they'd been firing at had either skipped out or died. Odds were good the SG unit assigned to guard detail had engaged the Goa'uld soldiers. If that were the case, it didn't look good for the home team, though Jack took some comfort in the absence of either dead bodies or live prisoners.

Field glasses pressed against his eyes, an ashen-faced Daniel whispered, "Oh God. Jack, over there."

O'Neill stared across the swath of open ground at the gathered Jaffa but saw nothing to make the color drain from his companion's face. Well, nothing other than a dozen enemy solders camped out just below them.

"What?"

"His . . . he has . . . the one on the far right . . . in his hand . . . is that what I think it is?"

O'Neill trained his own field glasses on the enemy. After a second's narrowed focus, he found the target and zoomed in on his hands. The binocs came down with a sharp jerk.

"Shit. He's got one of the research unit's GDOs."

After a long moment of intense thought, compiling and discarding dozens of possible action plans, Jack O'Neill settled on the hardest but most likely to succeed. He waved Daniel back down the ridge, not stopping until they'd rejoined Teal'c.

"There's a dozen Jaffa over there armed for bear. From the looks of it, they've taken out at least one of our people, maybe more."

"How do you know this, O'Neill?"

Daniel answered before Jack could, saying, "They have one of the team's remote transmitters. The big question is, can they use it?"

"We're sure as hell not going to hang around here and find out. Leave the sled. Back to the gate."

Teal'c obeyed without hesitation. O'Neill was six steps along before he realized Jackson had not followed.

"What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Come on."

"But . . . Jack, what about . . . there could be members of the research team still alive out there. We . . . we can't just . . . *leave* them. You *know* what's going to happen to them."

"There's nothing we can do for them right now. We have only minimal ordinance, nowhere near enough firepower to handle a contingent that size. The one thing we *can* do is get word back to the SGC before Glitter-Eyes down there tricks his way through the gate."

Daniel stared back toward the Goa'uld encampment, his expression stricken. "But . . ."

"You heard me, Daniel. Gate. Now."

*bob-kechunk*

Teal'c wheeled and fired his staff before his human friends could isolate the source of the familiar noise. The bolt struck a light-skinned Jaffa, his forehead tattooed with the sunburst symbol for Sokar. The blast struck him dead center in his chest and threw him back against a gnarly tree trunk. The Jaffa's staff weapon, primed to fire, fell to the forest floor.

"So much for getting out of here unnoticed." Jack waved Teal'c forward and shoved Daniel into a run before the dead enemy finished slipping to the ground. "Move, move!"

~~~

Horn blasts marked the hunting Jaffa's positions, both to each other and to their fleeing quarry. Running and firing, ducking behind cover whenever the enemy came too close, they made it as far as the final ridge overlooking the Stargate without taking any injury.

Teal'c easily outpaced his companions and reached the Stargate first. With a soldier's stamina and training, Jack, while breathing hard, was still in fighting shape.

Of the three, Daniel had lost the most in the mobile battle. Gasping in great lungfuls of air, he struggled to stay with his friends and maintain his place in their defense. They came to the final hump of land before the unnaturally flat meadow that housed the Stargate. A burst of enemy fire forced Daniel to veer right, along a slightly different track from O'Neill.

The instant the Colonel appeared atop the rise, Teal'c tapped in the coordinates for Earth. With a great *kawoosh* of light and sound, the wormhole engaged then settled into a familiar blue-white, water-like shimmer.

O'Neill reached the DHD and wheeled around in time to see Daniel begin his descent down the ridge.

"Teal'c, go! Warn the base--if they get past us--"

Teal'c hesitated a moment, his gaze jerking toward Daniel. Yes, he was close enough to the gate for O'Neill to provide sufficient cover, and no Jaffa had yet appeared on the ridge. With a nod to his leader, Teal'c lowered his weapon and vanished through the gate.

~~~

No sooner had Teal'c disappeared than six armed and armored Jaffa stepped into view along the ridge.

Daniel Jackson gave up all attempts to fire his weapon. Every ounce of breath and strength centered on reaching Jack O'Neill and leaping through the Stargate to safety.

An explosion of light, rocks, and dirt flew up directly ahead of him. Startled and blinded, Daniel could not stop in time--his foot landed in a hole excavated by a staff blast. He pitched forward, gun, hat, and glasses going one way, himself another.

A distinct snap heralded a nuclear blossom of pain in his right ankle. Daniel screamed and rolled, grabbing his damaged limb. For an instant, everything about the situation vanished except for the agony flaming up his entire leg.

A shout from Jack recalled him to his surroundings. Daniel struggled to rise, his eyes locked on the beckoning safety of the active wormhole.

~~~

A barrage of enemy fire forced Jack to shelter behind the DHD. He gave Daniel cover fire, but the scientist could do little more than crawl along the ground at a snail's pace.

Colonel Jack O'Neill knelt behind the DHD, exposing himself as little as possible. Behind him, the active gate glowed bright blue, its fluid surface so close and yet, considering the heavy fire aimed in his direction, so very far away. 

How much farther must it be for Daniel?

Jack took down three Jaffa but could not stop the rest from swarming over his friend. While it satisfied his need for vengeance, killing them did little to help their immediate situation. Even as they fell, the rest of the Goa'uld party arrived.

The Jaffa pulled Daniel to his knees, his arms held straight, rotated and wrenched behind his back. The pain from his fractured ankle and the pressure on his spine tore a reluctant cry from his throat, but he refused to yield to his captors. Every moment brought more pain but he struggled against the hands that restrained him.

"We know who you are--your clothing betrays you, Tau'ri! You will drop your weapons and step away from the gate," the eerie double-voice of the Goa'uld commanded, "or you will watch this one die."

"Don't do it, Jack!"

Jack heard the unmistakable sound of a metal-shrouded fist striking unprotected flesh. Other than a hard, swift grunt, Daniel made no other sound. O'Neill ground his teeth in rage.

"You hear me, Tau'ri. Surrender now! If you attempt to escape or throw a message through the Chappa'ai, he dies!"

*He doesn't know Teal'c has already gone through. He thinks he can still stop us from warning the base. I have to stall for time until they can lock out the research team's GDO codes.*

"Killing him won't get you anything but a body to litter up the landscape." Jack cringed at his own callous tone.

"Perhaps. But you value his life enough to remain in the vain hope of aiding his escape." The Goa'uld activated the zat with a distinct click-whirr-snick. "Surrender."

*Daniel. Damn it.*

O'Neill and Jackson locked eyes. Jack fought down a bitter catch in his breath. The fear was gone from Daniel's eyes, replaced by a sad resignation.

"When they build my statue," Daniel said, his voice almost too faint for Jack to hear over the roaring in his ears, "make sure they get my best side."

"No--"

With a cry worthy of a martial arts B-movie, Daniel Jackson wrenched his arms free of the startled Jaffa and surged upwards on his one good leg. He snatched a zat'nicotel from the nearest Jaffa's belt, turned it toward the nearest enemy warrior, and fired two quick bursts before his injured ankle gave way beneath him.

Jack rose and took down two more with a strafe from his assault rifle.

The Goa'uld leader vented a roar of his own and grabbed the scientist from behind. He slammed Daniel, shoulder blades down, across his upraised knee.

O'Neill had every intention of racing to his teammate's side, to die with him if need be. A near-brush by one of the deadly bolts kicked stone and dust up into Jack's face even as another scorched his upper arm. He automatically recoiled--tumbling backwards through the open gate.

Jack hit the ramp in a low roll. He frantically batted down the smoldering embers that outlined the blackened hole in his right jacket sleeve.

Before he'd come to a complete stop, he yelled, "Close the iris!"

The titanium alloy sections closed in front of the blue glowing wormhole a bare fraction of a second before several large and nasty somethings would have passed through--probably the Jaffa who'd been close on his heels. The wormhole disengaged.

Carter and Teal'c knelt beside him even as General Hammond appeared through the doorway.

"Sir, what happened to Daniel?" Carter asked, though the grave timber of her voice showed she suspected the truth.

Jack looked away, unable to answer. What could he say? *So sorry, Sam, I had to leave him behind. Again. But, hey, don't worry, he's used to it by now.*

"Sir," O'Neill said to Hammond as the stocky senior officer knelt down beside him, "recommend you lock out the GDO codes for the research team-"

"Already done, Colonel," Hammond said.

" . . . and those of SG-1."

~<()>~

General Hammond entered the briefing room, his steps reluctant and heavy. SG-1 had already gathered around the table, each face somber.

"Code lockouts are complete," the General reported as he settled into his chair at the head of the table. "I have a rather sketchy idea of what happened out there, but I'd like to hear the particulars."

". . . That's when the Jaffa grabbed Daniel."

Hammond turned to Teal'c, and asked, "Did you see any of this?"

"Only events up until I stepped through the Stargate. The last I saw of Daniel Jackson, he had just appeared over the far rise, running toward the gate. Colonel O'Neill stood beside the DHD, his weapon drawn and ready to cover Daniel Jackson's approach."

"Continue, Colonel."

*Do I have to?* Jack thought even as he said aloud, "Teal'c went through. Daniel was maybe thirty feet away when a staff blast struck the ground ahead of him. His foot caught in the disturbed earth. I moved forward, thinking to lay down cover fire, but . . . He just lay there, twisting around and holding his leg. I think he broke his ankle. Heavy fire drove me back to cover behind the DHD. Their fire pattern changed from attack to containment. I guess they didn't want to hit the DHD and screw up their own way home. By the time I could see through the kicked up dust and steam, they'd . . . overtaken Daniel's position. They threatened Daniel, said they would kill him if I didn't surrender. . . . Daniel . . . he . . ."

Voice rich with gentle compassion, the commanding officer of the SGC said, "I know this is difficult, Colonel. Take your time."

Jack cleared his throat twice before he could continue.

"Daniel . . . well, he resisted, sir. Managed to grab a zat off one of the Jaffa and turned it on them." Jack shifted in his chair and rubbed at his burning eyes with the heels of his hands. The horrific events replayed themselves before his mind's eye. "I tried to reach him, meant to get to him or die trying but . . . enemy fire drove me back through the gate. The . . . the rest you know."

"And what of Dr. Jackson?"

Jack looked down, unable to meet anyone's eyes. "The last I saw, he on the ground at the head Goa'uld's feet. He . . . he wasn't moving . . . sir."

"But you're not certain he's dead."

"No sir. Hurt definitely, but dead . . . I just can't say."

General Hammond closed his eyes and thought the matter through from start to finish. When he opened them again, his gaze burned with righteous fire.

"Colonel O'Neill, SG-1's mission will be to determine Dr. Daniel Jackson's status and, if possible, enact a rescue. SG-3 will do the same for the research team. We do not leave any of our own in the hands of the enemy."

"Yes, Sir!"

~<()>~

The need for advance intel delayed the rescue party's departure by four hours. The tech engineers broke every record deploying two UAVs for aerial recon of the target area, but the machines could only fly so far so fast, limiting the amount of territory that could be covered. Images must be examined and possible targets either confirmed or eliminated.

One machine searched for any sign of the Goa'uld--whether it be a camp, temple, base, ship, or patrol. The other flew over the research team's base camp and toured the remote observation stations, searching for any sign of their missing personnel.

Only when one unmanned scout plane transmitted a grainy image of a golden pyramid point sticking through the evergreen forest canopy did they have visual confirmation of a continued Goa'uld presence on the planet.

A closer fly-by showed a pair of dome-shaped metal cages. Several human forms huddled inside them. Enhancement of the images showed the readily recognizable faces of the research team and their protective escort.

~<()>~

Colonel Jack O'Neill examined the land around the cages, searching for any hint of trick or trap. With decades of experience at such things, he felt confident enough to order his rescue force forward. He had yet to find a Goa'uld who could set a trap as well as an Iraqi terrorist--Jack had learned from the best.

Fully aware that he commanded five men from outside his normal team, O'Neill took special note of their armament and positions. Lt. Bob Ellison, the tallest of the trio, moved up on Carter's left. Beyond him, short, muscular Sgt. Owen Rice crouched ready to pounce. Jack turned his gaze the other way, and spotted chocolate-skinned Lt. (jg) Ryan Franklin. Major Larry Collins and SSgt. Tony Balenthwaite closed in on the clearing from the far side.

Freeing the prisoners proved simple enough--the three Jaffa standing guard over the metal cages expected no outside rescue. They lounged around, neither alert nor wary. Six zats fired, most of them twice in rapid succession. One Jaffa, struck by three bolts, disappeared in an electric blue mist. The other two slumped to the ground, dead. 

Jack hurried to the nearest cage. Three blows to the lock with the butt of his P-90 freed the captives. Civilian scientists and uniformed SGC personnel stumbled their way clear of their outdoor prison. By the time O'Neill turned away from the cage, Teal'c had freed the occupants of the second cage.

O'Neill scanned every face. *No Daniel.* Though bitterly disappointed, Jack wasted no time playing I-Wish.

"Collins, you and Balenthwaite get them back through the gate. We'll take Franklin, Ellison and Rice."

Major Collins asked, "Where will you be, sir?"

"Since he's not here, I'm going to assume Daniel Jackson is somewhere in there," Jack said, pointing to the pyramid temple on the northern end of the valley. "We're gonna get him back."

~<()>~

Jack studied the empty corridor ahead of them with serious misgivings. This was too damn easy--they'd made their entry without meeting a single instant of opposition. Where were the Jaffa who crewed the vessel? The slaves who served their 'god'?

His team spread out along both sides of the hallway, taking advantage of whatever shelter or arch provided the best protection and concealment.

"Is it me, or is this ship too deserted for comfort? Not that I'm complaining, mind, but shouldn't we be meeting a few more snakeheads?"

Sam said, "Your previous altercations may have decimated the Goa'uld forces more than you originally thought."

"Teal'c?"

"I concur. Their forces may be weakened to an extent that would explain the lack of organized resistance. The Goa'uld you describe does not appear to be a system lord. He is most likely an overseer in search of resources, be it slaves, hosts, or other necessary commodity. Such searches were undertaken by a single lesser Goa'uld commanding no more than fifteen to twenty Jaffa."

"According to the report, we took down how many, ten-eleven Jaffa this morning and three more just now. That would leave snakehead himself and, what, six to eight Jaffa?"

Bob Ellison smiled and said, "We've had worse odds."

"We've had better, too. Okay, Teal'c. If they do have Daniel in this place, where would they be holding him?"

"The slave cages two decks below this one, near the organic byproduct regeneration chambers."

"'Organic byprod'--what?"

"I think he means the sewage reclamation system, sir," Carter translated.

"Eee-uew."

~<()>~

The rescue party reached the designated level having met only one unprepared Jaffa along the way. Jack waved the others to maintain their positions. He and Teal'c crept to the corridor intersection for a better look at the cell area.

Only the corner cell seemed to be occupied. A still form lay on the farthest cot, a gray, formless lump hidden by shadows. A single Jaffa stood guard duty in the corridor outside the cells.

Confident in the situation, Jack fired a two-shot burst from his zat. Teal'c stepped over the body of the dead guard and keyed open the cell door. The colonel slipped through before the metal portal had fully retracted.

"Rise and shine, Danny-boy, the cavalry's here."

The head at the top of the form shifted but made no effort to rise.

"Daniel?"

"Hey . . . Jack."

The raspy, whispered voice told O'Neill more than he wanted to hear. The colonel knelt beside the cot even as Teal'c touched a control panel to bring the chamber's indirect lights up to full power.

"Oww. Light. Bright," Daniel verbally protested but made no effort to physically shift from the cot other than to turn his head to one side.

In the bright light, Daniel Jackson's condition leapt from vaguely ominous to undeniably serious. By all appearances, the Goa'uld had dumped him in the cell directly after his capture. No effort had been made to clean him up or treat his injuries.

A vicious red knot, already surrounded by a purple and black bruise, marred the scientist's forehead. Cuts and scrapes dotted his skin, their surfaces clotted with old blood encrusted with dirt and forest debris. Little remained of his jacket or shirt beyond ripped, bloody, filthy scraps. Though his boots had not been removed, the swelling around his broken ankle was painfully apparent.

"Whoa, Daniel," Sam quipped, "you don't look so good."

"I've definitely had . . . better days."

Jack contented himself with a swift stroke of his friend's hair then stepped back and waved Teal'c closer. "Pick him up and let's get the hell outta here!"

Teal'c moved to slide his arms beneath Jackson's shoulders and legs. Daniel's eyes flew open, wide with panic.

"No, don't--don't move me."

"Dammit, Daniel, now is not the time. We have to go."

"Nono, don't move me . . . back . . . broken."

"Oh my God," Sam whispered even as the rest of the rescue party gaped in numb horror.

"Danny, are you . . . are you positive?"

"It's . . . not something . . . you make a mistake on."

Jack closed his eyes to hide his misery and guilt from his friend. Stomach clenched in horror, O'Neill wrestled his mind back to the problem at hand--a problem that had just grown to gigantic proportions.

"We'll . . . we'll rig a brace of some kind. A backboard and collar. Immobilize you for transport."

"Jack . . . don't . . ."

"We aren't leaving you here, so don't even suggest it. We fought too hard to find you."

"And I appreciate it, Jack . . . more than you can . . . ever know. At least . . . I won't . . . die alone."

O'Neill spoke aloud without realizing it, his voice a hoarse whisper. "My fault."

"Jack, even if you'd turned right around . . . and killed every single Jaffa in that clearing . . . it wouldn't have made . . . any difference. They broke my s-spine before you'd taken . . . a single step . . . toward the gate. The damage was already done. There's really . . . only one thing left to do."

"What?"

"Say goodbye."

"NO!"

"Please, Jack. Let me go."

"No! We can . . . we can get you home. Doc Fraiser can fix you up."

"Sir," Sam said. "I really don't know what Janet can do--"

Anguished brown eyes tipped up, pinning Carter in place. "She can fix him."

"No, Jack," Daniel sighed, "she can't. I can't . . . move . . . my arms or-or m-m-my legs. I'm paralyzed. I don't want to . . . live that way."

"Even if that's true, a lot of people go on to live long, meaningful lives. You can do it, Daniel. You know so much, still have so much to teach me--us."

"Give me my freedom, Jack. Let me go. Don't make me . . . spend the rest of my life . . . trapped . . . in a body that . . . doesn't work the way it used to. I don't want to spend my days . . . locked in a tiny room . . . even one with a view."

"Danny . . ." Jack moaned.

"Please, Jack. Let me go."

Jack leaned forward and rested his forehead against Daniel's. He held the contact a long moment before he whispered, "I will miss you, Daniel."

"Take care of yourselves, Jack. Don't give up. Ever. Promise?"

"Promise."

Daniel smiled then turned his gaze toward the large silent man standing at attention behind O'Neill. "Teal'c."

The name was friendship. Comfort. Benediction. Farewell.

"Your memory will hold a place of honor among my people, Daniel Jackson," the warrior from Chulak whispered; a rare tremble of intense emotion filtered through his voice. He bowed low at the waist, a mark of profound respect. "You showed us the way to freedom. It will never be forgotten."

"S . . . Sam."

Carter captured his hand between her own then remembered his paralysis. She laid the hand back down and pressed her palms against Daniel's waxy cheeks.

"I'm-I'm here, Daniel. Right, right here."

"I left tapes . . . for everyone. Make sure Jack . . . listens to his. Okay?"

"I will."

Blue eyes tipped once more toward his oldest friend in the SGC. "Thank you, Jack."

"What for?"

"Showing me . . . life. It was a . . . wild ride . . . wasn't it?"

"The wildest, Danny."

Daniel's eyelids fluttered closed. His teammates waited. A deep breath. A long pause. Another. A short burst of panting. A sigh. Stillness.

Major Carter laid trembling fingers against Daniel's throat. A single tear tracked down her cheek.

"He's gone."

"Dammit . . . Daniel."

Time ceased to have meaning. O'Neill, Carter, and Teal'c grieved as one.

"Sir." Lt. Ellison interrupted their sorrow with visible reluctance. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but begging your pardon, we have to go now."

Jack pulled himself together by sheer will. Daniel was gone--the thought cut through his heart like a knife--but others under his command still depended upon him to lead them home. Even so, on one point he would not budge.

"We can't leave him here."

"I will carry Daniel Jackson."

"No," Jack said. He waved Teal'c back. "I'll take him."

A somber team began the convoluted trek back. O'Neill concentrated on bearing is burden, leaving his safety in the hands of the others. He barely took note when they left the ship's fetid sublevels and approached a primary corridor.

Someone touched his arm. Carter.

"Sir--"

Jack could feel the heat as it leeched from the limp body pressed against his own. It couldn't belong to Daniel. Couldn't possibly.

"Not now, Carter. Not . . . not now."

"But Colonel--"

"Leave me alone!"

Carter dug her fingers into O'Neill's bicep hard enough to bruise and spun him around. Before he could shrug away her grip, she moved directly into his personal space, her face less than four inches from his own, Daniel Jackson's body sandwiched tight between them.

Accenting each word for clarity, Major Carter reported, "Sir, they have a sarcophagus."

Jack blinked, hardly daring to hope. He followed Carter's gesture. An ornate archway to their right opened onto an opulent chamber decorated with typical Goa'uld excess. A golden sarcophagus, every inch of its surface covered in embossed Egyptian hieroglyphs, stood in the direct center of the oval room.

Even as his body moved in the direction of the alien healing device, he threw a question over his shoulder. "Teal'c, is there time?"

"A Goa'uld sarcophagus is capable of repairing almost any injury, including a return from death itself, for a short period of time past the expiration of life."

"How long past death can someone be fully revived?"

"There have been reported healings of bodies as old as twelve hours, though healings undertaken after such lengthy periods are generally not totally successful."

"Then open the damn thing already."

Carter frowned and asked, "What about the addiction--"

"Addicted beats all hell out of being dead," Jack said. "Let's go, people. Ellison, Rice, watch the door."

Jack leaned over the open bed of the coffin-like contraption. Teal'c reached over the machine from the other side and helped O'Neill straighten their friend's lifeless form. With a creak and groan of metal against metal, the intricately designed leaves of the sarcophagus lid closed over Daniel Jackson, blocking him from view. Jack looked at his watch: 2138 hours.

"How long will it take?" tall, lanky Lt. Ellison asked.

"Considering the extent of his injuries, a complete recovery, free from handicaps or infirmities, will take a minimum of ten minutes."

"I don't know if we have that long," Rice whisper-called from the door. "I can't see 'em but I can sure as hell hear 'em."

"The longer we can go without them seeing us, the better our chances," Jack said. "Find cover everyone."

For once Jack was grateful for the Goa'uld tendency to design their ships with countless arches, alcoves, and tapestries in which to hide. Five seconds after his order, every member of his team had found concealment.

The next five minutes were the longest in Colonel Jack O'Neill's life. No sooner would one Jaffa walk past than another one, or two, would choose that particular corridor.

His watch read 2144.

An alarm sounded. Metal security doors slammed down, echoing through the walls.

"They have discovered the escape," Teal'c reported.

Jack again checked his watch: 2145.

Turning to Teal'c, he asked, "Has it been long enough?"

"Most of the major damage will be repaired, but he will not be fully recovered. He will require assistance."

The sound of clanking armor and metal boots against metal deck plates took the decision out of O'Neill's hands.

"No choice. Get him out. The rest of us will lay down cover fire. You get him back to the gate."

The top leaves pedaled open. Jack watched; for a long breathless moment he feared the machine had failed in its purpose. Daniel Jackson inhaled a great lungful of air and promptly lost it to a prolonged coughing fit.

Teal'c lifted the smaller man into his arms and slipped into the center of his armed companions.

Exiting the ship proved harder than entering. The Goa'uld forces were alerted to their presence. With only one way out, the Jaffa had only to wait at the exit point for them to appear.

The Goa'uld tendency to never learn from its mistakes never failed to surprise Jack. You'd think after years of being strafed by human gunfire and blown to pieces by human fragmentation grenades, they would learn to counter their threat in some way.

The Jaffa fought as they always did, in the open without any protection capable of repelling bullets. Ellison called a heads-up to his teammates an instant before he and Rice lobbed grenades through the doorway. The resultant explosions took out the Goa'uld overseer and all but two of the remaining enemy warriors. The survivors retreated to the forest, but in true dogged fashion, nipped at the human's heels all the way back to the Stargate.

As they left the tree line for the open meadow around the gate, O'Neill, Rice, Franklin, and Ellison fired at anything even remotely resembling a Jaffa, leaving Carter free to activate the gate and send the GDO signal. Teal'c, his still-unconscious friend cradled in his arms, shielded Daniel from stray bolts with his greater bulk.

Behind the curtain of protection provided by the rescue party, Teal'c raced up the steps and through the glowing barrier.

"He's through!" Sam shouted their victory.

"Fall back! Through the gate, go-go-go-go!"

The team retreated one by one. Jack O'Neill, the last through, surrendered the planet to the enemy and stepped through to home.

~<()>~

Dr. Janet Fraiser smiled down at Colonel O'Neill as he struggled to find a comfortable position in a chair designed by sadists. The small hours of night muffled or silenced common infirmary sounds, leaving only the whirr and click of the machines monitoring the room's only patient.

"I really should stencil your name onto the back of that chair."

"I definitely spend enough time in it to warrant the cost of the paint," Jack said.

Janet glanced toward the bed. Her gaze collided with a pair of fuzzy, confused blue eyes.

"Looks like someone's decided to wake up. Finally."

"Sam . . . Teal'c?"

"They're fine, Daniel," Janet reported. "We finally talked them into getting a little rest." She threw a teasing grin toward the occupant of the chair. "Now if the Colonel would just do the same . . ."

Jack shrugged. "I love this place. What can I say?"

Sensing an end to the exhausted Colonel's endurance, not to mention patience, Dr. Fraiser completed her examination in record time.

"So, Doc," Jack asked, "what's the verdict?"

"Chalk up another victory for the home team. And another win for me in the betting pool on the recipient of the Most Eventful Mission award."

"Glad to help," Daniel added, his voice still quivering with exhaustion.

"I'll leave you two alone to debrief one another, then Colonel, you will find a bed and get some sleep. Don't make me pull out the rubber noodle, is that understood?"

"Sure thing, Doc. And thanks."

Daniel watched the doctor leave the room before arching a limp eyebrow and repeating, "'Rubber noodle'?"

"Long story. Tell you later when we're both more awake. I just . . . well, I guess I just want to make sure you're okay with everything that happened."

"How could I not be okay? I really thought I was dead."

"You were." Jack screwed his face up in a deliberately overblown grimace. "Technically speaking, of course."

"But . . ."

"They had one of those Goa'uld coffin thingies, you know, a sarcophagus. The enemy closed in on us--we couldn't leave you in it long enough to heal *everything* but it was enough to fix the worst of it and bring you back."

"You took a big risk, Jack. Maybe too big."

Jack shrugged it off, saying, "I didn't do anything you wouldn't have done for me. And have on more than one occasion."

"Still . . . Thanks, Jack."

"Anytime, Daniel."

FINIS

  


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> Daniel-whupping is an addiction, a proven chronic medical condition that can be treated only by repeated and varied creation or reading of fanfic in which Daniel Jackson is . . . uh well, whupped. I suffer from this condition, and I am a survivor.  
> Yes, I know, SG-1's version of *deux ex machina*--evil but wonderful sarcophagus saves the day again. Hey, I LIKE dead-but-not-death stories, so *there.*  
> SPECIAL THANKS:Special thanks to Mary Ellen, EJKatz, and Karen for their wonderful critiques!  
> 

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>   
> © August 12, 2001 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp.  
> The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters  
> who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names,   
> titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television,   
> Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd.   
> Partnership.  
> This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and   
> solely meant for entertainment.   
> All other characters, the story idea and the story itself   
> are the sole property of the author.   
> 

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